


Baker's School for boys

by Squidlymuffin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boarding School AU, M/M, Teenlock, Virgin!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidlymuffin/pseuds/Squidlymuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a  student at Baker's school for troubled boys.  Trying to fit in he bullies new student Sherlock Holmes only to discover that they are to be roommates.  </p>
<p>(This fic is a work in progress and it is likely that I will be lengthening it and doing some further editing so keep a lookout for updates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

A sigh of relief rippled through the classroom of 2B as the bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. John Watson cracked an eyelid and unstuck his face from the desk he had been sleeping on. The rest of the class had already more or less filed out leaving him sitting bleary eyed in his chair. Yawning, he leaned back and ran his hands through his hair gazing across the school grounds. Baker's school for boys was located in the beautiful English countryside, near a small town. It was specifically a school for troubled boys. Boys who were bullied, couldn't behave, or just didn't fit in right. John had been sent to Baker's school for boys because he had been bullied for, liking boys a little too much. Of course no one at Bakers knew this. From the moment he arrived he had made a point to tell everyone that he has been kicked out of his old school for roughing up a couple of students.

A sudden thudding sound jumped him out of his sleepy state and left him looking around. A flurry of unfamiliar dark hair and pale skin told John that he was looking at the new student. The young man was hunched over silently in a corner picking up the avalanche of books that had just cascaded off of his desk onto the floor. He was surrounded by a couple of the bigger boys in the class, one of them nodded at him, this was he blondes cue to join them. He stood and slouched across the room. As much as John hated being involved in hazing new students, he found it to be a stress reliever.

Just as the dark haired boy had gathered all of his books into his arms one of the bigger boys nudged John who kicked the books to the floor again. Seconds later he stumbled back by the metaphorical force of the glare that met him. This was his first time seeing the new student's face and it was…indescribable. John had a type and luckily for his libido there weren't any boys currently attending Baker's school for boys who fit his 'qualifications.' The young man's face was pale and angled; he had high, defined cheekbones and a cupids bow that could have shot John dead if it had wanted to. And, Gods, those eyes framed by dark curls. Not only were these eyes a piercing ice blue, they also held such an indescribable intelligence. And John was breathless.

"Sherlock Holmes? What kind of a name is that?" the bigger boy named Marcus spat out pushing him into his own pile of books... John mouthed the name. Sherlock stayed silent and stared at the floor. Marcus snorted and elbowed his other goonish friend, "Let's go Chris…this little faggot isn't any fun." Chris spat at the figure on the floor flecking his cheek with spittle and followed the other boy out of the room, "Watson! You coming?"

"Yeah," John croaked, "I'll be there in a minute." Sherlock had finished picking his books back up and stood slinging his satchel over his shoulder. He was a great deal taller than John, who found himself helplessly reaching up to wipe the spittle off of the cheek. "I know you're not a faggot, "he murmured.

"NO!" the brunette's voice was scathing as he slapped John's hand away. "Not... like... you!" and with that he walked briskly from the classroom leaving John alone.

 

Sherlock Holmes leaned against the back of the dorm buildings. He was puffing furiously on a cigarette. They were contraband at Bakers of course but he had outside connections and they helped him clear his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn't been fazed by the words, but his pride had been hurt and for him that was a big deal. He had only been sent to the school because his brother had told his Mother about his snarky attitude at his old school, and his constant correcting of the teachers. In other words he was used to being king of the roost. His cell phone (also contraband) began to buzz lightly against his leg.

That would be Mycroft. He had been rushed to classes that morning and Mycroft promised he would have his things brought to his room. He had been told he would be living in a suite with a young man named Michael who was a rather burly shy figure by who no doubt had a collection of male swim suit magazines hidden underneath his bed. And it was doubtful it was because the young man had any interest in swimming. But living in a suite would mean he would have a room to himself.

He brought the phone to his ear exhaling the last of his cigarette as he did so before stubbing it out.

"Hello Sherlock." His brother's voice drawled softly into the phone.

"Hello Mycroft, have you brought my things?" he asked, not particularly in the mood for whatever his brother had to say, as it was usually paltry advice that he wouldn't follow anyways. Mycroft sighed from the other end of the line. He obviously knew his brother well.

"It's all been brought up to your room. Now I know you asked me to pay for you to have a room without a roommate, but I personally think a little companionship would be good for you. So I have set up for you to live in a double room with a very nice young man." Sherlock 's eyebrow twitched with annoyance and the next words he spat out were searing.

"Mycroft…you know I can't work with other people about. And this is a boy's school, which means suppressed libidos, which leads to sneaking girls back, and then I have to deal with either being asked to leave my own living quarters or god forbid, laying there listening to –"

"Sherlock, you are being ridiculous, you are merely creating scenarios, besides I would hardly put it past you to go to the headmaster with such a problem. Before you protest again, I have had your things sent up to your room the head boy is waiting at the door to show you to your quarters. I know you will do well here my brother. Please do try to make some friends." And before Sherlock would protest further there was a click and then silence.

Sherlock Holmes rarely swore, but he was tempted to use the worthless words now. Resisting the urge he stalked darkly to the entrance of the dorms where, as his brother had said, a very cheery looking blonde boy with rosy cheeks was waiting for him, chest puffed out to show off the little gold pin that labeled him as head boy.

"You must be Sherlock," he smiled and Sherlock found himself wondering if this boy had an abnormal amount of teeth. "My name is Henry, I'm the head boy here, hmm there seems to have been a little change...you were supposed to be in room 214 with Michael…but it seems there was a last minute change," he flipped through the old clipboard he held, "Now you're in room 330, this is your keyyy," he drew out the last few letters of the word as he fished around in his pocket for the item before pressing it into Sherlock's spindly fingers.

"Thanksss," Sherlock muttered coldly, mocking the way the other boy spoke as he turned and ascended the rickety metal staircase until he reached the third floor. His brother had severely worsened his already foul mood, god help whoever his roommate would be.

Turning down the corridor he reached his destination and unceremoniously thrust the key into the lock. The room was much nicer than he had expected it to be, with high ceilings, big windows, and wooden floors which was a nice change to the chipping tile that made up the floor of the rest of the dormitory building. His roommate's things were fairly neat, but a pair of boxers peeking out of a desk drawer told Sherlock that the young man was more likely advised to tidy due to his arrival.

Sherlock's belongings consisted of a valise of school uniforms, a bin of books and school supplies, an old violin, and his chemistry set, Once he had finished unpacking his side of the room looked much more naked than his roommate's which was plastered with football posters and a couple peeling posters of scantily clad women. Sitting onto his immaculately made bed Sherlock picked up the violin and began to play. It was a habit that helped him think, but he was currently playing because of his case of deep ennui.

The lock clicked, signaling the entrance of his roommate. A dusky blond figure ducked into the room dressed in a football kit. He glanced up and froze. Sherlock was in the same state of shock his generally flat expression askew in a gape of horror. They both struggled to compose themselves.

"Er…." The other boy began desperately avoiding Sherlock's eyes. "My name….um… I'm John…John Watson…I'm sorry about earlier… I had no idea that…" he trailed off his face furiously red.

"That you what?" Sherlock spat out coldly, it was a rhetorical question. He didn't wait for a reply and instead rolled over pulling a book from the bookshelf by the foot of his bed and facing away from John ignoring the pleading look in the other boy's eyes. He wasn't as angry as he lead on, but his pride still hurt and he wanted to make his new roommate feel his wrath if only for a little while.


	2. Chapter two

John's face was burning and he busied himself tidying his desk. He had a rather odd mix of feelings had crept into him that made his chest feel tight. This was good, very good, living with the kid would mean that he could further attempt to apologize for earlier that morning. But this was also very bad, John already didn't handle stress well and the weeks of cold shouldering and melancholy violin playing that was sure to follow would definitely not help.

He sucked in a deep breath and started to turn around,

"I already told you," the baritone voice rumbled across the room, "I don't want to hear anything from you."

"You didn't technically say, " John began softly.

"Yeah well I obviously don't do I?" Sherlock's voice was still angry and piercing but slightly less so. A breathy sigh from John indicated his defeat for the time being and he peeled off the sticky kit. All he wanted to do right now was take a shower to calm his nerves. Throwing on a dressing gown and grabbing his shower tote he swept out the door without another word.

John wriggled as the steamy water hit his back. It felt good, instantly relaxing the tension he had felt all morning. He had another few hours before he had to be in the dining hall, and he was prepared to take a long thoughtful shower and give his new roommate the space he obviously needed. John was sure that the stress of moving to a new school probably had something to do with Sherlock's attitude, and of course what had happened that morning hadn't helped a bit.

He massaged shampoo into his hair the heady smell of it making him a bit dizzy. He had bought it because a magazine had promised that it would have the boys fighting over him. He usually only wore it when he went out drinking, or if he wanted to try to sneak in a snog in the bathroom with some boy he had met at a club on the weekend, he figured if things didn't work out with his roommate he could always sneak into town after curfew .

When he finished with his shower he dried his hair and threw on a clean uniform, walking slowly back to his room. He had decided that the best course of action would be to make a cup of tea as a peace offering. Tea always made him feel better, so why not his cranky roomate as well. He paused outside the door before pulling out his key and making an audible scuffle outside the door to alert Holmes of his return. When he opened the door and peered inside he breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that Holmes had fallen asleep. Tiptoeing to his closet he tucked away his shower tote and crept up onto his own bed, from which he studied the other boy's face. Holmes's face was relaxed and his bowed lips were parted splendidly. His brow was furrowed in never ending deep thought, even when he was sleeping evidently. John was overcome with an urge to rush across the room and press his own lips against the other boy's. But he knew that would be an even worse way to start off his attempt at reconciling. So he settled for watching. And the more he watched the more entranced he became, Holmes eye twitched in the midst of a dream and just as John was getting lost in thought the bell rang for dinner. And his roommate's eyes flashed open.

John scrambled to look away but it was too late, Sherlock seemed surprised for a moment, an uncharacteristic look on his face before he fumbled for composure, icy eyes searing into John's for a moment sending blood rushing to John's cheeks before he rolled gracefully off of his bed smoothed down his uniform and left without a word.

When John arrived, hair still wet, in the dining hall it was already abuzz with activity. It was a wide rectangular room with tapestries bearing the school's shield emblazoning the walls. The head table where the Dean and the rest of the squat bearded professors sat was situated at the entrance; a birth of space separated the professors from the long tables where the students sat that stretched uniformly down to the other end of the room.

He found himself scanning the room for his roommate. It would be suicide to sit with him of course, but he at least wanted to make sure that the other boy was ok. His eyes found their target at the far end of the room engrossed in a large leather bound book. Sherlock didn't seem too upset, but then again it was hard to tell with him, his lips were creased into a thin line of thought and every so often he would scribble furiously into a notebook. John found himself breathing a sigh of relief which was knocked quite suddenly from his lungs by a hand clapping him hard on the back.

"Ey Watson, we're sitting over here today." Marcus shoved past him raising an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Or were you thinking of sitting with the fag today, because you know that's ok too." His tone said that he was teasing. John felt his heart twinge a little and he had half a mind to say yes and go to join Sherlock in the corner. But he was fairly certain that Sherlock would either ignore him or leave him sitting alone at the table anyways. He laughed, shifting nervously under the eyes of his peers.

"Come on guys, that's gross…" he took his usual seat between Marcus and Chris throwing one last glance over to the corner. Sherlock hadn't moved, he would have to find a better way to apologize later, but for now he was famished.

If there was one thing that Baker's School for boys was known for it was its food. Dinner consisted of caramelized carrots and maple glazed salmon, John tucked in with gusto. It was perfect as usual. Dessert followed. Little white cakes with strawberries and rich dark chocolate drizzled over the top. John had his with his usual cup of tea. He was in heaven, even Marcus's stupid conversation about their French instructor's pretty assistant and something about the size of her breasts couldn't break his mood. Nope, no one could be in a bad mood after that dinner, could they? Not even-?

Sherlock's dinner and dessert sat in front of him untouched. His head hadn't even left the book. A mug of tea sat next to him however and every so often a pale hand would sneak across the table to grasp it by the handle and pull it to those cupids bow lips.

"Oy earth to Watson."

"Huh?" Chris was staring at him like he had snakes wriggling out of his ears.

"Weren't you listening, Dom asked if we wanted to sneak out tonight to play pool at the pub downtown."

"Uh." He had considering sneaking out, but not to the kind of pub that they were thinking of. "Maybe not tonight guys, I have a lot of work to do, next time I'm on though." He stretched and yawned to show that he was in no fit shape for a night out on the town.

"Meh whatever then," He and Dom returned to their conversation and John excused himself silently from the table and ambled back across campus to his dorm.

 

Sherlock sighed and looked up from his book shaking a stray lock of hair from his face. Damn his infuriating new roommate. Despite his attempts to research and record the types of fungus he had collected from the dorm showers that morning he had been unable to concentrate. He had specifically asked Mycroft for a single room. But as usual his brother had his "better interests" in mind and had placed him with the one person in the school who on his first day had completely humiliated him.

Watson's goonish friends were pointing and snickering at him from their place at the other end of the table. He had caught his damnable roommate glancing at him curiously from their midst all throughout dinner.

Students had begun to file out of the hall still chatting merrily about dinner. Sherlock glanced at his plate, the carrots had gone a bit mushy and the salmon was cold. No use eating now, and he had never really been a fan of cake. Using one pale finger he pushed the plate further from him and carefully unfolded his leather bag from the seat beside him and slipping his book inside of it, careful not to crease its pages. It would be better to just go back to the dorm and get some of the sleep that he rarely succumbed to.

Slipping away from the table he began to trudge down the length of the dining hall only to bump headfirst into what seemed to be Marcus.

"Going somewhere pansy?" he gritted out through gnarled teeth.


End file.
